


Falling Head Over Heels For You

by SoBeBold



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, First Kiss, First Meetings, Fluff, Love at First Sight, M/M, Meet-Cute, Romantic Fluff, Sort Of, my timeline and descriptions of MIT are guaranteed to be inaccurate just roll with it folks, or maybe meet-ugly, they're teenagers but there's no real hanky panky so no worries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-18
Updated: 2018-08-18
Packaged: 2019-06-29 12:40:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15729600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoBeBold/pseuds/SoBeBold
Summary: A weird psychic impulse won't stop pulling at Tony, and it's ruining his life. He's falling all over everything trying to figure out where the hell it's taking him. He wishes it would just go away, and it finally does, when he falls in just the right spot.





	Falling Head Over Heels For You

It’s only been a week. One goddamn week, and his life is going berserk. As if it isn’t tough enough being the nerdiest in a school of world-class nerds, plus being three long years out from being a legal adult, Tony is getting weird clairvoyant signals. As soon as he stepped on the campus, something softly glided up and walked behind him like his shadow, a guardian angel, a whisper in his ear. Gentle, like flapping wings on a butterfly. That grew into a tap on the shoulder, and now it seems like somebody put their size fifteen shoe in his ass.

Tony’s sardined in his noon Statistical Thermodynamics course with fifty other students. The old but well-maintained, lecture hall drips with stained dark-wood, sepia tones, and old money. They haven’t gotten around to putting central air in, so it’s hot and humid from all the bodies packed in. The old wallpaper sweats as the tall, lanky professor with the hawk-like nose carries on in his monotonous voice. His tie is drooping; could be from boredom, or maybe it’s had a heatstroke. Tony doesn’t envy it, being so close to the man’s mouth.

That’s when he hears it. No, not hears it. _Feels_ it. No, not feels it. It deeper than that. It…surrounds him. The pounding won’t leave his ears. The pull won’t stop tugging at him. 

He can't sit still. He twists and turns in his creaky antique seat-too fast and too sharp- and his arm flies out and his books crash into the aisle. Everyone turns to look at him.

"Ahem. As I was saying.” His professor doesn’t even check to see if everything’s alright, just straightens his glasses on the massive bridge of his massive nose and drones on, a cheap ceiling fan in the summer heat. Terribly ineffective, though.

The feeling is under Tony’s skin. Not like an itch, though, more buoyant, more like a cool tingle from a nice breeze. Still, it’s unnerving like a sonofabitch and it spreads through Tony’s body so insistently it makes him shout. He jumps straight up and stands there.

His professor sighs. "Which of your shenanigans are we in for today, Mr. Stark?” It never did take a long time to build a reputation. But being a fifteen-year-old ultra-rich genius and tech prodigy, his reputation sort of preceded him.

“Uh, oh captain, my captain?” Tony’s discombobulated but he’ll never let a little thing like that keep him from being a jackass.

“This would be a good time to talk a walk, Mr. Stark. For the rest of the class period, I should think.”

“Brilliant idea, Ma’am. I mean, Sir.” The other students snicker but the decidedly male professor does not.

Someone slips into the classroom next door as he comes out. The feeling piques in response, then eases, but doesn't go away. Tony’s glad they weren't around to see his panic attack. Finally, he’s in the hallway catching his breath. 

 

It's James's first semester too, and he’s not legal either, but it will take less time to get there. Only a year, and he hopes his mom will stop worrying so much once his birthday passes. 

"Mr. Rhodes, is there a particular reason you're interrupting my class with your tardiness?” His professor actually is a ma’am and is stern but thankfully likable.

"Sorry, Professor, the hot water went out on my floor. I figured you'd rather have me smell fresh bed be on time.” Some of his classmates chuckled. 

“When you put it like that, your thoughtfulness is appreciated. Take your seat.” James thought about the flash of the boy who caught his eye in the hallway, so clearly having a panic attack. 

 

To Tony's amazement, he makes a couple of friends. He feels special because they're adults, eighteen and nineteen years old, and they deign to take him under their shrimpy, IT-nerd wings. 

"It's because you're hilarious,” Dave says. 

"And because we want to see what kind of stuff we can get by hanging around you,” Chaoxiang adds with a smirk. “After all, my name does mean ‘expecting fortune’”. He couldn’t ask for better people to be uncool with. 

It’s the perfect sunny fall day, so they're playing Frisbee on the quad lawn, still vibrant green and sprinkled with golden Maple leaves, the first of the majestic oak trees’s winter sacrifices. They must be a couple hundred years old, and a few of them tower like sentinels watching over MIT students, probably there since the first Collegiate Gothic buildings were erected in 1861.

Tony's been feeling more or less alright for the past week, but the strange feeling- The Pull- surfaces as he tosses the frisbee to Dave. Distracted, he stares out over the quad, looking for-he has no idea what. Dozens of students sun bathe, smoke weed, and have picnics as he stares, and at least four more games of frisbee are going on. Nothing in particular stands out. 

"Tony, get your head in the game,” Chaoxiang calls, “Playing frisbee is very serious business, you know.”

”Sorry.” Tony catches the frisbee behind his back and sends it sailing at him. Chaoxiang fumbles it, juggling it before finally clasping it to his chest. 

“All that big talk and you can’t handle a little frisbee? What a geek!” Dave yells. 

"News flash, Dave, we are all lames here. “

"No shit, but some of us are lamer than others."

"Hey, Tony, go long!“ Chaoxiang throws the frisbee with hall his might-admittedly not much, but the damn thing gets some air under it and really flies. Tony takes off after it, eyes to the sky, tracking his target. 

The Pull comes roaring back with a vengeance. It only takes a split second; as if it had wordlessly shouted, _over here!_ and jerked his head towards it, Tony sees the student union flash in his sights. The oxidized-copper light post comes out of nowhere.

_Clang!_ Tony collides with it full speed and, unsurprisingly, loses the fight.

“Oo-oooooh!” Say the twenty-five or so who saw him completely fucking eat it. When all is said and done, the light post stands victorious.

“Are you gloating? Do you think this is funny?” Tony says to it from flat on his back. He’s barely conscious when Dave and Chaoxiang lean over him. 

"Tony, speak to us, man! You alive?“ Dave grabs his shoulders and shakes him way to hard for no good reason at all and Tony shoves him off.

"No, Dave, I’m dead and I wanna stay that way. Just let me listen to the birds sing for a second.” 

"Tony, there are no birds singing.“ Embarrassed and woozy, Tony starts laughing, so they do too. Soon everyone around them is roaring with laughter. His friends grab an arm each and help him sit up. A huge red welt spreads on Tony's forehead, mixed with flecks of the post’s green exterior.

"We better get you to the nurse.“

"No need. A dozen Aspirin, a cheese pizza and my Burt Reynolds poster ought to do the trick.”

Dave and Chaoxianghaul him up and help him wobble back to his dorm, an arm over each of their shoulders.

“That was legendary, Tony. You’re gonna be famous on this campus in no time,” Dave says.

“Yep, that’s exactly what I’m going for.” Tony’s sarcasm muscle wasn’t harmed in any way.

 

James comes down student union steps, slowing when he sees the small crowd. 

"What happened?” He asked the stoner sitting on the grass. 

"Dude was going for a frisbee. Got distracted and wiped out into the light pole. It was epic.” The stoner giggled like mad. 

"He alright?“

"His friends got him up. They're taking him somewhere. He's weaving like a drunk. Got a big red and green mark on his forehead like Christmas. Christmas, man.” The guy has a giggling fit and James leaves him there. He hopes the wipeout guy is okay. All seems well, so he joins his newfound friends to enjoy the beautiful day.

 

“No, no, no, don’t you start again!” Tony growls at the weird intuition-pull thingy. It’s ruining his life. A couple people look over at him, scowling. Probably because he’s in the library, in the main cavernous, high-ceilinged hall, with lots of focused and frazzled students pulling out their hair at the dozens of tables around him. The place carries an echo like a mother.

Every hair on Tony’s body stands on end and the roar of his heartbeat’s so loud in his ears it deafens him. “Dammit, aren’t libraries supposed to be quiet?!” Tony snaps through gritted teeth.

“It would be if you’d shut up!” The guy at the table next to him says.

“I’m having a crisis here, do you mind?”

“Shhhh!” Says the girl on the other side of him. He sticks his tongue out at her. 

The Pull is so strong Tony can’t breathe. He looks around the room, deaf and dumb, wondering where the hell he should be going. Because now he knows it _wants_ something. The sooner he finds out the sooner it’ll go away. Whatever he was supposed to find he’s close, that much he knows. 

“Better not be the next Ted Bundy.” Who’s he kidding, he’d jump right into the van if it would get this damn feeling to go away. He sweeps all his books into his backpack, pages flapping and covers clacking, much to the chagrin of the people around him. 

“Finally," the guy says. Tony flips him off.

Tony ambles along the bookshelves without much awareness of what he was doing. He only knows he’s following The Pull. _Warm, warm, warm hot hot HOT_ then _cold, turn around!_ Tony caught a glimpse of a young man, a flash, far down the aisle, practically the other side of the library. 

_Go to him._ Tony tries for a quick u-turn. Problem is, he totally misses the pile of computer books on the ground with his eyes but not his feet. One foot lands on the pile so when he pushes off the whole stack flies out from under him. He goes head first into a rolling re-shelvingrack. He takes the cart out like a pro linebacker.

 

James is at the other end of the aisle looking at a biochemistry book, so he doesn't notice anyone passing by. Something does turn his head though, like someone’s yanking on his sleeve. He looks over just in time to see books go flying. He runs towards the mess, not sure if he can help, but willing to try.

 

Books flap their pages and fly across the room. They scatter like panicked mice, one hundred technology books all over the floor. He might as well have set a bomb off. He knows everyone’s staring, but he can't move. Landing on the cart knocked the wind out of him and he can't catch his breath. A crowd gathers around him, trying to help him up and asking if he’s alright.

Tony slaps himself back into reality.

“I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine,” a girl replies with disdain.

“A little less judgment would be nice,” Tony sniffs.

“What happened?” The student librarian asked, helping him to his feet. 

“I-I don’t know.”

A familiar-looking guy throws up his hands. “Of course it’s the idiot who was talking to himself!”

“I have to go.” Tony jumps up and grabs his backpack. 

“Where? Are you sure you shouldn’t go to the clinic first?”

“No, I just, I just have to go.” He needs out of here,like right now. He needs air and his mind and independence back. He needs a moment’s peace. He rockets out of there, leaving book carnage and a small crowd behind him.

Outside he pauses for a beat, hands on his knees, to take a few deep lungfuls of fresh, untainted fall air. Then he starts running again. He doesn’t know where, but for now he’ll pretend he can outrun The Pull. 

 

By the time James gets to the other end of the aisle, there’s only a bewildered crowd standing in a mess of abused books.

“What happened?” He asks the nearest student.

“There was some crazy kid talking to people who weren’t there, then he had a mental breakdown and tried to hurdle a couple rows of books. Didn’t end well for him.”

“Is he alright?”

“He got up and ran so I wouldn’t say he was _hurt_ , but as far as alright? I’m gonna say a solid no.”

James isn’t in a rush, so he helps the student librarian pick up all the spilled books. His name was Harvey and he was a pretty cool guy. James wonders about the crazy book hurdler and the strange feeling he had today. Are they connected?

 

How Dave and Chaoxiang convinced Tony to go to a freaking MIT basketball game, especially with this whole weird psychic thing going on, is beyond him. He has to keep living his life, he supposes. Until he finds out who or what is bugging him, a distraction will do nicely.

In the arena, everything seems fine. Tony’s head is clear and he’s able to use his usual acerbic wit to give his friends a hard time. For the first five or so minutes of the games, he even has fun. He forgets all about The Pull.

 

James gets to the game a little late, but it’s still the first quarter. He grabs the largest size Coke he can get his hands on and joins his friends, stealing handfuls of all their popcorn. 

"Row fifteen, pretty damn good seats,” They say, hi-fiving each other. _Close enough to see all the players’ great legs in those little shorts,_ James thinks. Far out.

 

The awareness comes on suddenly, giving Tony that strange feeling of being surrounded. It’s like he’s going to levitate and float right to his goal, who or whatever it was. He swivels his head left to right.

“How the hell should he know what to look for?” There are literally ten thousand people there.

“What?” Dave asks as Chaoxiang helps himself to Tony’s twizzlers. 

“Nothing.” Tony pushes Chaoxiang the candy and stands up. He can’t sit still and he has to piss like a racehorse anyway.

Tank now on empty, Tony washes his hands and splashes cold water on his face. The shock helps clear his senses, but The Pull is still there. He’s fed up with it. It’s not a bad thing, per se, in some ways it’s quite pleasant, but the damn thing is just so fuckin’ pushy. If it wants to show him something so bad, why not just get it over with already?

"What? What is it? What do you want?!” He’s yelling, but he can't help it. His outburstjump-scares everyone. One of the restroom patron’s accuracy is compromised and he makes a mess of the wall and floor. His eyes say Tony’s murder is imminent, so Tony beats it out of there.

He starts down the long row of stairs, hyper-aware of the phantom tapping on his shoulder like an annoying younger sibling. The arena’s din might as well be silence. Nothing sticks out to Tony as worth all this trouble. Still, he keeps looking, hoping he’ll know what it is when he sees it. The Pull just pulls.

It snatches Tony’s head around at row Fifteen. He hesitates, looking for whatever had made his life a living hell for the past few weeks. What he sees makes him grind to a halt, his heart frozen in between beats. The Pull screams at him now, but it sounds more like the swell of an orchestra in a music hall, perfectly harmonized, embracing and filling him. 

 

He sees a face, the most perfect face. _The_ face. _Him_. It has to be. Who _is_ that?

 

The hesitation costs him. The line of people behind him do not hesitate. The person behind him bumps into him, almost knocking him off the step. 

“Hey. why don't you – “ The next person bumps into the first and Tony grapples for the railing. The third bump does it. Tony gets launched from the step.

_So this is what it’s like to be an Olympic diver_ , he thinks. Because he’s airborne. For the first couple of rows he’s falling, there’s nothing but open air. _It’s gonna be a bitch when I hit these concrete stairs. Oh, well, I had a good run. My parents will probably be relieved. Don’t cry for me, Argentina._

He goes headfirst into the stairs and tumbles. He takes out the mascot, who falls into the laps of a couple sorority girls in row ten. The student section oohs and ahs and watches as he flips once, twice- whoops, there goes the cotton candy guy- three times, hits the railing, tries to grab it and skids down the last couple of rows.

He lays on his stomach, motionless, like a cadaver. The students stand up, straining to see him. 

"Is he dead?” Somebody shouts. 

“That death would go down in the annals of history.”

Tony’s very much alive, unfortunately. He’s gonna feel this one for the next month, at least. As everyone stared at him, only one student had the sense to jump up and run down to see if he was breathing.

The hand on Tony's shoulder sends a rush through him like he's never felt. The whole Pull, the entire feeling has concentrated itself into a physical being and flipped him onto his back. Tony _knows_. He knows who he’s going to see when he rolls over.

“Please tell me you’re okay.” The hand cradles his head, the thumb against his cheek.Tony stares at the hand, then follows the arm up to the attached face. If he thought he couldn't breathe before, he has another thing coming. The face is smiling and it’s like watching his first sunrise. 

“That was an acrobatic performance. I’m glad you survived it. Want me to call a medic?“

Tony gapes like a fish. He isn’t sure where to start. This gorgeous young man is the one Tony’d been searching for. Something in the universe had dragged him along until he became lucky enough to stumble, literally, into his path. If this is his reward it was worth every spill, every embarrassment, every frustration and then some. He lays his hand over the one of his cheek, in complete awe. _Say something cool, Tony. Make a clever joke about how you meant to do this. Ask his name. Say hello. Just say something, and act normal._

"Marry me.” Tony should slap a hand over his mouth, but he’s not ashamed. James doesn’t miss a beat.

“Well, I’m gonna need a better proposal than this.” After all, he _knows_ , just like Tony does.

“Really?”

“Really. High marks for effort, but your execution is garbage. Get me a nice ring and I’ll think about it. Something twenty-four carat gold, maybe.” Tony smiles like he’s never smiled in his life, because he knows this _is_ his life. Tony doesn't waste any more time asking what it was. Intuition, a divine power, the universe. Maybe he shouldn't believe in that stuff, but he’s smart enough to know some things still defy explanation; there are things that man still just can't comprehend.

“Come on, let’s get you off this cold floor.” Tony doesn’t care.

“I’ll lie here all night if it means I get to look at you.” He’s gone on this guy already. James ducks his head, face heating from the sheer power of the love. Yeah, he said it. Love.

 

MIT wins. Up in the rafters, James and Tony aren’t paying any attention to the game. They’ve finally learned each others’ names, and that they have to wait a while before they can actually get married, and that both of them love Twizzlers. They can’t keep their hands off each other.

“I kept feeling like something was calling me. Every time I felt it, there was a guy falling and almost killing himself. I had no idea it was you.”

“You felt it, too? What did it feel like?”

“Like a buzzing in my ear, but a nice buzzing. Like a bumblebee. Or humming, like a hummingbird.”

“That’s all you got was humming?! I had full military parades crashing through my head!”

“I get the feeling you’re a dramatic person.”

Tony tilts his head and mulls it over. “Know what, that’s fair.”

James laughs. “Something tells me this is gonna be a hell of a ride.” He kisses Tony and asks what the hell took him so long.


End file.
